One Thing
by tinytoppler95
Summary: They only wanted one thing: the State Championship. But they know they can't have it given to them on a silver platter...there has to be obstacles on the way...and where there's obstacles, there's always drama.
1. Hannah and Quentin

**One Thing**

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Friday Night Lights.  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>Prologue: Hannah and Quentin<span>

_August 6, 1988_  
><em>Pre-Season<em>  
><em>Day One<em>

"_It's MOJO Radio back on the air, Slammin' Sammy here, football time in Texas. Let's go to the phone, we got Butch online with us. Butch, is this gonna be a great year or what?"_

The loud voice of Slammin' Sammy was all Quentin "Q" Owens needed to wake up. He flipped his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes as the conversation with Sammy and Butch blasted over the radio.

He let out a huge sigh and walked out of his room. As he slowly headed towards the bathroom, he noticed that the light was turned on and the tap was running. He pushed the door open and noticed a small girl with long black hair, a dark-olive skin tone, and chocolate brown eyes wearing baggy grey sweat pants and a white tank top.

The girl heard the bathroom door lightly colliding against the wall and looked through the mirror to meet with a pair of dark brown eyes. She noticed a boy wearing a pair of plaid boxer shorts and a grey short-sleeved shirt. The color of his hair was similar to her's although his hair was much shorter and stood up at odd ends.

"Hannah," Quentin greeted dully, making minimal eye contact with the girl.

Hannah gave Quentin a brief nod and continued her business at the sink. She pulled out her toothbrush and covered the bristles with a thick layer of toothpaste.

Quentin came up from behind Hannah. She shifted sideways from the sink and began to brush her teeth. Quentin adjusted the faucet and ran his hands under the cold water, splashing it onto his face. The chilling sensation shocking his nerves awake. He continuously splashed his face until he felt chills running down his spine. Once he was finished, he looked up at the mirror and felt a sharp nudge at his hip, causing him to stumble over.

Hannah leaned over the sink and spat out the foamy toothpaste, giving Quentin a devious smile once she finished.

She threw a towel at Quentin—which he caught with ease—and began to rinse out any remaining toothpaste in her mouth. Once Quentin finished drying his face, he threw the towel back at Hannah.

"You ready for today?" He asked curiously. Hannah wiped her mouth with the towel Quentin threw her and nodded.

"Hopefully." She replied with a nervous smile.

Quentin gave a small smile and walked out of the bathroom. Hannah followed in pursuit, grabbing a large hairbrush sitting on the edge of the sink before she left.

The two teens entered the kitchen and were greeted by the heavenly aroma of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. They sat at the small dinner table in the corner of the room and began to dig in.

Quentin took a pile of flapjacks and dropped them on his plate, smothering each cake with a load of butter and drowning them in maple syrup.

Hannah on the other hand, kept her plate clear and tried to untangle her long black hair with the large hairbrush she brought from the bathroom.

A woman with short, curly black hair and soft brown eyes matching Hannah's emerged from the kitchen, setting down a plate filled with bacon.

"Morning mom," The two teens greeted, continuing their matter at the table.

The woman gave the teens a large smile and kissed the top of their heads. She took the hairbrush out of Hannah's hand, and began tying her hair back into a French braid.

As her mother was doing her hair, Hannah reached across the table and switched her empty plate with the one filled with bacon.

"You better save some," Quentin muffled, his mouth full of pancakes.

Hannah rolled her eyes and tossed a single piece of bacon onto Quentin's plate.

"Really?" He asked in a serious tone, switching his glare from the single piece of bacon resting on top of his pancakes to Hannah.

Hannah nodded, giving another one of her devious smiles, reaching for the maple syrup, and—like Quentin did with his pancakes—drowned the bacon in the cold, sticky syrup.

Quentin gave a revolting look, trying to force the pancakes down his throat. "Gross," he commented quietly. He looked up at his mother, who was too busy trying to make Hannah's hair look perfect. Instead of pushing his plate forward, Quentin looked down at the meal in front of him and continued eating in slow, small bites.

Hannah quietly laughed to herself and hugged her legs to her chest. She pulled a piece of syrupy bacon from her plate and began to savor her sweet and salty breakfast.

"Where's dad?" Hannah asked, after eating a couple strips of bacon. This caught Quentin's attention as he looked up at his mother for her answer.

"At work." Their mother replied. The two teens gave each other a solemn look and Hannah went back to eating her breakfast while Quentin continued making eye contact with his mother.

"Is he gonna be done sometime soon so he can come and watch?" Quentin wondered.

Their mother finished tying up Hannah's French braid and shrugged her shoulders, expressing a heartbroken glare and shook her head.

The two teens dropped what they were doing and sat back into their chairs. Both of them had disappointed looks on their faces.

"I'm sorry," their mother said quietly, "but you both know how hard it is for us right now." Silence filled the room. "I have to go to work." She stated, breaking the silence. Their mother kissed their foreheads once more and left the kitchen to leave the two teens alone and prepare for work.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed the time, neither of the teens touching their breakfast. Once he heard the front door open and shut, Quentin decided to break the tension and glared at Hannah with a grim expression. The small girl looked up and returned a serious glare identical to Quentin's.

The two of them didn't have to say anything to each other. It was like they read each other's minds. They grabbed the glasses sitting in front of them and gulped the contents down in large portions. They gave each other a short nod, stood up from their seats, and left the kitchen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, there's the prologue! I hope you guys like it! After watching _Friday Night Lights _a few days ago, I immediately remembered an episode of a Disney show I used to watch called _The Proud Family_. There was this one episode called: _'She's Got Game' _and it totally gave me the inspiration to write this story. I also remembered an episode of _Degrassi: The Next Generation _called _'Fight the Power' _which also inspired me to write this as well. If you've seen any of these shows and any of these episodes, then you probably know where this story might be going.

Reviews are always welcome and constructive criticism is a must!

Ciao!  
>-Katie<p> 


	2. The Boys

**One Thing**

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Friday Night Lights.  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter One: The Boys<span>

Hannah and Quentin walked into the parking lot of Ratliff Stadium, duffle bags hanging from their shoulders. Hannah remained in her baggy grey sweat pants and white tank top while Quentin changed into a striped t-shirt which he tucked in his jeans, his messy hair was combed back.

They walked towards a tall boy leaning against a rusty old truck. He had dark skin and dark eyes. He had a mustache above his lip, making him look older and more intimidating. Both Hannah and Quentin looked past the intimidation factor and smiled at the boy, who gave a short nod to them in return.

Quentin held out his hand. "Ivory," he greeted, keeping a smile on his face. Ivory Christian slapped Quentin's hand and gave the boy a brief nod.

Hannah silently walked up to the large boy and gently wrapped her small arms around his broad shoulders. Ivory leaned in only slightly and placed a single hand on her back. As the two let go, Hannah gave the larger boy a small smile.

Ivory gazed over Hannah's head, a cold glare plastered on his face. Quentin and Hannah turned to see another dark boy running up to them, his white shirt dangling from the waistband of his sweat pants. A white car came zooming into the parking lot and halted right beside Quentin, Hannah, and Ivory. A blue car drove from the side of the stadium and parked right beside the white car.

The driver in the blue car made brief eye contact with the passengers in the white car as they simultaneously stepped out onto the parking lot.

Two boys emerged from the white car. The driver was a Hispanic boy with short black hair and deep brown eyes. The other boy had long, sandy blonde hair, his eyes hiding behind a pair of sunglasses. The driver of the blue car had light brown hair and green eyes.

The shirtless dark boy was the first one to approach Quentin, Hannah, and Ivory. He held his hand out towards the small group and Ivory was the first one to it, followed by Quentin.

"'Sup Ivory, Q," The shirtless dark boy greeted loudly.

Hannah left the boys and walked over to the Hispanic and the green-eyed boy, giving the both of them a light embrace.

"Ready to work?" The green-eyed boy asked Hannah and the Hispanic boy. The two of them nodded, their faces expressionless.

"'Sup Boobie?" The sandy-haired boy addressed monotonously, slapping the dark boy's hand.

"State?" James "Boobie" Miles asked the sandy-haired boy.

"State." He replied dully, giving Hannah a side hug as the group walked towards the stadium.

"State? State?" Boobie asked the Hispanic and green-eyed boy, giving the two of them a high five.

"State." The two bluntly replied.

Boobie took one look at Hannah, scoffed and shook his head. "Hannah, you're late. Cheerleading tryouts already started half-an-hour ago."

Hannah smirked and shook her head. "Give it up, Boobie. I'm only here for one reason and one reason only, and that's to take you down honey."

"What, you don't care about State?" Boobie arrogantly questioned.

"I'll make that my priority _after_ you hit rock bottom." Hannah replied confidently.

"Don't get over yourself, girl! Even if you grew a foot taller and gained an extra fifty pounds of muscle, you still won't be able to take Boobie down."

Hannah rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Whatever." She replied sheepishly, quickly regaining her confidence. "Bring on the tyros, the neophytes, and the dilettantes."

This received a chorus of groans from a few of the boys.

"SAT's are over, Hannah." The Hispanic boy said in a matter-of-factly tone.

Hannah turned around and faced the Hispanic boy as she walked backwards. "And you're still jealous of my score, Chavo." She laughed.

Brian "Chavo" Chavez shook his head in shame and glared down at the ground.

"Can we _please _not talk about SAT's?" Quentin asked Hannah in a worried tone, "I'm still trying to recover from the physical humiliation you put us through last year."

"_Physical humiliation_?" Brian repeated, raising a brow at the dark-haired boy. This caused Boobie and Ivory took look at Quentin with a raised brow as well.

Quentin pointed at Hannah. "She literally tied me, Mike, and Donnie down to chairs to study for our SAT's!" He accused.

He received a chorus of laughter from both Boobie and Brian while Ivory shook his head.

"Hey! If it weren't for me, you guys wouldn't have gotten a 1600 on those exams and you wouldn't be walking in this stadium as we speak. You're welcome." Hannah retorted.

"Thank you Sister Hannah," Quentin replied sarcastically, "I love you." He flashed a goofy smile.

Hannah rolled her eyes and displayed a bitter smile. "That was an over-share bro," She disappeared behind the door to the women's locker room.

Once Hannah dispersed from the group, Quentin, Brian, Boobie, and the sandy-haired boy shared a small laugh.

"I still can't believe the two of you are twins." The sandy-haired boy—Don Billingsley—stated casually.

"Don't remind me," Quentin warned, shaking his head in embarrassment.

"Seriously," the green-eyed boy—Mike Winchell—added, "When I first met y'all, I thought the two of you were a couple."

Quentin turned to Mike and gave him a disgusted glare while Brian, Don, and Boobie tried to hold back their laughter.

"Okay Winchell, now, _that _was an over-share." Brian, Don, and Boobie couldn't contain themselves as they walked into the men's locker room bursting with laughter.

It was hard for people to believe that Hannah and Quentin were twins, let alone related. Besides the gender difference, there were many physical factors that made them seem unrelated.

Hannah was a small girl, with the height of five foot two and weighed less than 100 pounds because of her high metabolism. She had a dark skin complexion and soft brown eyes, just like her mother. She was considered the "perfect" one in the family, being both academically and athletically talented. She never brought home a grade under an A- and was a quick learner on the field and in the classroom.

Quentin, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was a large guy for his age, being exactly six foot three and weighing over 180 pounds because of the amount of muscle he has. His skin was a much lighter complexion compared to Hannah's and his eyes were much darker, traits he received from his father. He was constantly being compared to Hannah with his grades—always bringing home grades that were lower than B's. However, he seems to learn much faster than Hannah when it comes to the playing field.

One look at the two of them and people would think they were a couple because they didn't look alike and they never went anywhere without each other. It was extremely difficult for both Hannah and Quentin to convince everyone that they were twins; until they turned sixteen and got their licenses—that's a completely different story.

* * *

><p>Hannah glared at her reflection in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink. She felt weak. The padding on her shoulders was weighing her down, as if someone was forcing her to kneel. The padding on her legs felt like imaginary hands exploded from the ground, trying to pull her through the floor tiles.<p>

Her neck was burning in pain as her entire body trembled. Her fingertips felt like she was clutching ice, her breathing short and choppy. Her eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears; her skin was almost as pale as the sink she was grasping.

Hannah tried to control herself by taking deep, slow breaths, her eyes easing back to white.

After she felt like she had complete control of herself, she bent down to her duffle bag and pulled out something silver and shiny. She peeled the silver wrapper, revealing a thin white strip underneath it. Hannah shoved the white strip in her mouth and a minty aroma devoured her tongue. She tossed the silver wrapper to oblivion and hoisted her duffle bag over her shoulder, heading out the women's locker room.

Hannah burst through the doors of the boy's locker room. Not one person took her entrance by surprise and yelled for her to get out. The boys were used to it. As long as she didn't burst through the doors while they were naked, she was allowed in the boy's locker room.

She would go to the boy's locker room mainly because she would always ask Quentin to tape her ankles—she trusted nobody else but her brother for that job. She would also go to the boy's locker room for any pre-game pep-talks and game plans the coaches told the team so she wouldn't feel left out.

Hannah took a moment to observe her surroundings. Everyone was already dressed in their warm-up gear and a majority of them were already in their padding. A few were taping their wrists while others were tying up their laces.

She found her brother sitting beside Don and Brian and made her way over to the trio.

"Hey bro," she called out to Quentin, catching his attention, "tape up my ankles?"

He gave a small nod as Hannah reached into her bag and tossed a roll of athletic tape in her brother's direction. Quentin caught the tape and began to unravel it, changing his position on the bench. Hannah sat in between Don and her brother and dropped her bag to the floor, resting a bare foot on the bench.

A few minutes later, the loud and obnoxious voice of Boobie Miles was heard from across the locker room. Hannah and Quentin shook their heads in shame while Boobie was tormenting Chris Comer—his "backup backup". Boobie was criticizing Chris on his white Adidas, telling him that the "proper" shoes were black Nikes.

Hannah glanced down at her open bag, a pair of white shoes stood out from the contents in her bag.

"I have white Adidas," Hannah mumbled, loud enough for Don and Quentin to hear her. The two boys smirked at her comment.

"Nothing holds a nickel next to Nike!" Boobie yelled.

"And nothing holds a bastard next to Boobie." Hannah murmured, completely unaware of what she just said. This got Quentin and Don into a quiet laughing fit with Quentin almost dropping Hannah's tape on her ankle. Even Brian gave a small smile at Hannah's comment.

"Ask Ivory, ask Preacher Man!" Bobbie commanded.

"The kind of shoes on your feet don't matter." Ivory stated, tying up his own shoes—ironically enough, they were black Nikes. This was the first time Hannah and Quentin heard him talk all day.

"Amen." Hannah and Quentin said quietly.

"C'mon Preacher, bullshit!" Boobie protested.

"Don't matter at all." Ivory said.

"You know God made _black _beautiful. God made _Boobie _beautiful! Black and strong…"

Don shook his head. "His mouth just keeps gettin' bigger and bigger and bigger." It was Hannah's time to laugh as she switched her feet so Quentin could tape the other ankle.

Boobie continued his rant about how he could knock anyone out with his black Nikes, Ivory challenged to knock him out with a pair of flip-flops.

"You know he will!" Hannah inserted, wanting to make Boobie shut up once and for all.

Boobie laughed. "Yeah well, I'm gonna knock 'em out with Nikes on my feet and I'm gonna smile when I do it."

The locker room fell silent with the exception of the sound of closing lockers, athletic tape being unraveled and Hannah and Don mumbling insults about Boobie.

"Thank God he's done talking." Quentin said, ripping the tape from the roll. "I was gonna go up to him and tape his mouth shut." He waved Hannah's remaining roll of tape in the air. Don, Brian and Hannah all shared a genuine laugh as Quentin smiled and tossed Hannah's tape into her bag.

Quentin stood up, and began pacing back and forth in front of the three teens, collecting his thoughts and getting into 'the zone'. Hannah stood up from the bench and lightly rolled her ankles to loosen the tape from its sturdy grip. She sat back down and pulled a pair of white socks from her bag followed by her white Adidas.

"I swear to God, if Boobie comes up to me and starts criticizing me about my shoes, I will shove these down his throat with no hesitation." She told Don and Brian.

The two raised their brows and snickered. "He already makes fun of you for being a girl," Brian pointed out.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Not the point Chavo. Football isn't about setting some goddamn trends. It's about playing the game with heart no matter what kind of shoes you wear on your feet. Clearly, Ivory's the only one who gets it."

Brian and Don shook their heads and went back to their business. Once Hannah finished tying up her shoes, she took another observation of her surroundings.

Mike was sitting on the other side of the room with a binder wide open in his hands. He was reading the pages like a maniac, his finger trailing every word on the pages as his leg bounced up and down.

Ivory bowed his head and clutched his helmet in his hands. His eyes were closed and his lips were making small movements. He was praying.

Don had a pair of earphones jammed in his ears. He nodded his head to the beat of the music, not giving a care in the world if anyone could hear his music as he turned up the volume.

Brian had his nose planted in a book. His mind was taken over by his imagination as he read the descriptive words to the story. He looked over at Don and shook his head in irritation as the volume of Don's music escalated; he could almost hear the lyrics to the song.

Quentin continued pacing back and forth, cracking his knuckles and blocking out the world. His mind began to clear with every step he took, his breathing was smooth and slow.

Hannah continued to examine the locker room. She sat Indian-style on the bench, popping her gum. The music from Don's walkman was gradually increasing in her ear. She ignored Don's horrible taste in music and began to get herself in the zone.

"Let's go. Five minutes, let's go." The coach ordered. All of a sudden, everyone in the locker room slowly dispersed through the door to the field.

Mike finished reading the last few words on the page he was reading. Ivory did the sign of the cross. Don stood up with his helmet in one hand and his walkman in the other and headed for the door. Brian closed his book and threw it in his locker. Quentin grabbed his helmet sitting on the bench. Hannah grabbed her helmet out of her bag and threw her belongings in Quentin's locker.

Just as she was about to head out the door, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chris sitting on a bench. She took one look at the door and noticed that her brother and the team were already gone. She craned her head back in Chris' direction and saw that he was coloring his shoes with a black sharpie.

Hannah heaved a huge sigh and shook her head.

"You're not gonna make me be the only player on that field with white Adidas are you?" Hannah asked as she walked up to the young teen.

Chris looked up in surprise to see Hannah Owen standing in front of him with a raised brow. He looked down at Hannah's feet, saw a pair of white Adidas and chuckled in embarrassment. He set the half-colored shoe down, and closed the sharpie. "Well, um…after what Boobie said—"

"Fuck what Boobie says!" Hannah exclaimed angrily. "Everything he says is literally pulled out of his ass! The color of your shoes doesn't make you a better player; you're passion for the game does."

Chris went silent and looked down at the ground.

"You can't let him tear you down because of the shoes you wear." Hannah continued, her voice quickly went soft, "Shoot, he tears me up every day because I'm a girl. Do you see me complaining? No. Instead, I get my ass out on that field and prove him wrong. You should too."

Hannah left the room without looking back, leaving Chris to sit all alone to absorb her words. He exhaled a huge sigh and shook his head. He picked up the sharpie and continued coloring his white Adidas.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **There you have it, Chapter Uno! I hope you guys like it! I know I kind of rambled in this chapter, but I promise I will try to make it more interesting!

Reviews are sweet, constructive criticism is always welcome.

-Katie


	3. Practice and Interviews

**One Thing**

**A/N: **Another rambled chapter! I dedicate this one to CupKatyCakes for reviewing and putting this story into her favorites! Thank you!

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own Friday Night Lights.  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Two: Practice and Interviews<span>

The players of the Permian High School football team lined up at the side of the field. All defensive players wore black jerseys while the offensive players wore white.

Something caught Quentin's eye as he took a glimpse at the end of the field. A group of people came piling into the stadium, some holding cameras and other news equipment while others walked in wearing Permian colors: black and white, showing their MOJO pride. Quentin noticed a few people standing out from the crowd, all wearing a variety of bright colors and baseball caps representing different universities—scouts.

"We got company." He mumbled, eyeing the scouts. Hannah, Don, and Brian craned their heads to where Quentin was looking and saw parents, the press, and scouts walking on the track surrounding the field. Parents and scouts immediately placed themselves on the bleachers while the press was finding a place to set themselves up.

"I hate the press." Hannah stated coldly, watching every single move the press made as they assembled themselves on the track.

Ever since Hannah played football for Permian, the one thing she despised the most—besides the cheerleaders—was the press. Because of the fact that she's the only girl on the team, the press thought that they could take complete advantage of her and ask her more questions than they would for the rest of the athletes. Most of the questions they asked her questioned her strength and abilities on the team. This aggravated Hannah to the extreme.

"Lighten up Hannah," Don said, slapping the small girl on the back, "maybe they won't ask you as many questions this time."

Hannah scoffed. "Bullshit."

She looked up at Don and noticed that the expression on his face was distressed, his eyes pointing in the direction of the bleachers. She followed the blonde's eyes and noticed a man with dark eyes and brown hair covered in a MOJO baseball cap looking in her direction. His stare was cold enough to make Hannah freeze up in the extreme Texas heat. It wasn't until she noticed that the man was staring right at Don.

She turned around and faced the sandy-haired boy. "Just pretend he's not watching." She advised in a delicate tone. She added a small smile, hoping to lighten up his mood.

Don took his focus off his father, met with Hannah's eyes and nodded. The expression on his face shifted from worried to serious.

"Where're your parents?" Brian asked the twins. Hannah immediately gazed at the ground and fiddled with her fingers.

"Who cares?" Quentin furiously replied, his eyes wandering around the field.

Don and Brian shared a curious look then eyed the twins, completely disturbed of their bizarre actions.

The sound of the whistle echoed throughout the field—practice has already begun.

* * *

><p>After a rigorous warm-up that seemed to last forever, the team finally began a scrimmage. As the scrimmage went on, the players who weren't participating were being interviewed by the press.<p>

Hannah sprinted across the field, escaping the tight grip of her tacklers.

"PASS! PASS!" one of the coaches screamed.

Boobie Miles threw the ball across the field. Hannah glanced over her shoulder and saw the egg-shaped ball flying in her direction. She extended her arms toward the ball as her legs dashed toward the goal post.

She felt a light _THUD _crash against her padding as she clasped the ball, holding it as if she was protecting a baby. Hannah ran right to the goalpost and dropped the ball in victory.

A chorus of chants came across the field. Hannah knew not to get her hopes up; she knew the cheering was for Boobie.

"Alright Hannah, Boobie, take a break!" One of the coaches ordered.

Hannah walked off the field and pulled the helmet off her head. Her hair that was once pulled into a perfect French braid was now drenched in sweat and began to fall loose. She stood at the sidelines and grabbed a random water bottle, squirting the cool water into her mouth then all over her sweat-covered face.

Boobie grabbed the water bottle from her hand mid-squirt, and helped himself to the cool beverage.

"Hey!" Hannah screamed, reaching to grab the bottle, but her arm was blocked by Boobie's hand.

"Boobie," A voice called out, the two teens turned to face one of the coaches who pointed his thumb towards the press, "Press wants to talk to you."

Boobie flashed a bright smile at the coach and threw the water bottle at Hannah, who was fumbled with it as it hit her chest. Hannah finally had control of her coordination and held the bottle in her hands. Anger rushed through her veins as she squeezed the bottle in fury, wasting the cool liquid on the field.

"Dick," she mumbled to herself, throwing the bottle to the ground and studying the scrimmage. It was Quentin's time for a break as he walked up to his twin sister and picked up the now dented water bottle she dropped.

"Boobie?" he asked curiously, holding up the bottle. Hannah kept her gaze on the scrimmage and nodded. Quentin quietly laughed and tossed the bottle to the side.

The twins got distracted from the scrimmage and heard the booming voice of their coach. They looked over to the source of the voice and saw Coach Gaines asking Chris Comer what he was supposed to do. The young teen stuttered his answer and received an immediate comeback from Gaines. Both Hannah and Quentin bowed their heads, feeling empathy for the junior.

The twins tried to focus their attention back to the scrimmage.

"Quentin!" A voice called out. Quentin turned his head and saw a coach motioning him to come his way. Quentin took a quick glance back at the scrimmage and ran over to the coach.

"Yeah coach?" he asked.

The coach placed a hand on Quentin's back and pointed towards the group of people holding microphones and surrounded by cameras.

"They want a few words with you." The coach answered. Boobie shook hands with each of the reporters and jogged his way over to the sidelines, where he continued to torment Hannah.

The coach gave Quentin a light shove as he stumbled his way over to the press. Quentin tried to control his nerves as he clutched his helmet in one hand and wiped the sweat off his brow with the other. This was the very first time Quentin has ever spoken to the press. He knew his twin sister Hannah has had her time to shine with the press before, but that was only because she was the only girl on the Permian football team and the press made such a huge deal about it that they couldn't get their cameras off her. Once he approached the media, one of the reporters greeted him with a smile.

"Hello, you must be Quentin Owens." He said, extending his hand to Quentin, which he nervously shook. "We just wanna ask you a couple of questions."

Quentin nodded, trying to hide his nerves with a blank expression on his face.

The interview began with the press asking him some simple questions: the position he plays, how it feels to play for Permian, and his prediction about the State Championships. The questions came and went as Quentin tried his best to answer them without stuttering.

All of a sudden, the interview became serious and focused more on Quentin. One of the reporters asked him about his experience on the team...it eventually went downhill from there...

* * *

><p>"Girl, why don't you get your pretty little ass into one of those cheerleading uniforms and cheer for Boobie?" Boobie asked, slapping Hannah on the rear end.<p>

Hannah grabbed her back side and gave Boobie a death glare. Boobie putting a hand on her "personal property" was enough to make Hannah go on a rage. She had enough of Boobie's harassment for the day.

"You know what?" Hannah asked the dark boy angrily. She held her hands out, wanting to use this opportunity to wrap her hands around his neck. Then she immediately remembered the people in field that could possibly be watching her every move—the scouts…the parents…_the press_.

If she strangled Boobie right then and there, there was a definite chance she would be kicked off the field for the rest of practice—and end up on the evening news.

Hannah curled her fingers until they turned into tight fists and dropped them down to her sides. "Go to hell, Boobie." She gritted through her teeth. Boobie gave a loud laugh, put his helmet back on his head and ran out to the field to continue scrimmaging.

"What was that about?" A voice called out from behind Hannah.

Hannah gasped and turned around to come face-to-face with Don, who was taking a sip from his water bottle. Hannah tried to avoid looking into his eyes and replied, "Nothing. He's just being a prick."

"Well he had to do something to make you act like you wanted to kill him," Don replied casually, taking a step closer to the small girl.

Hannah tilted her head and met with a pair of electric blue eyes. "He told me to be his cheerleader and slapped my ass." She bluntly told him.

Don raised a brow. "He slapped your ass?"

Hannah nodded. "I swear to God if they,"—she pointed to the bleachers, where the parents and scouts were sitting—"weren't here, I would've—"

"Hannah!"

Don and Hannah turned to the source of the voice where a coach was walking in their direction. When he approached the pair, he pointed his thumb towards the media.

"The press wants to talk to you." He told Hannah.

Hannah nodded. Once the coach turned his back, she closed her eyes and relived an unhappy sigh.

Don gave the girl a lopsided smile. "Have fun." He sang.

"You wanna go ahead of me?" Hannah asked in a desperate tone.

The tall boy laughed and shook his head. "I already had my fifteen minutes of fame, sweetie,"—he jerked his head to the end of the field—"and so did your brother."

Hannah turned around and saw Quentin heading in their direction, scratching the back of his head.

"How did it go?" Hannah asked as her brother approached her.

Quentin shook his head in embarrassment. "Bad." He simply replied.

"What happened?" Don wondered.

"I think I told them more than I should've…and I sneezed."

Hannah and Don shared a laugh.

"You probably did fine," Hannah assured, placing a hand on his shoulder, "and it's not like the sneeze is gonna make breaking news anytime soon."

Once the laughter died, Hannah took a glimpse of the news reporters behind her and turned back to Quentin and Don.

"Well, I guess it's my time to shine in the lime light!" Hannah said in an acerbic tone. She turned on her heel and strolled towards the press, sweaty palms clutching her helmet.

A woman reporter was the first one to take notice of her and smiled at Hannah, extending her hand.

"Hello Hannah," the woman greeted, lightly tightening her grip on the teen's hand, "it's good to see you again."

"Good to see you too." Hannah replied, trying to hide the fraudulence in her tone.

If there was one thing Hannah hated more than Boobie Miles and the Permian cheerleaders combined, it had to be the Odessa press. For four years, the media's been watching every single one of her moves on the field, hoping to get something juicy to corrupt her reputation in the small town. It put more pressure on Hannah to be perfect on the field. She also hated being in the spotlight. The fact of receiving all the attention and having people praise her for it was embarrassing for her. Not to mention the fact that her teammates wouldn't get any recognition either.

The beginning of the interview was settle for the most part. They asked her the simple questions—questions she's heard before and got sick of answering. Then they asked her opinion about winning the State Championship. As Hannah answered the question, she made sure to mention the team as much as she could, trying to make the interview less about her.

Then one reporter asked her a question that made her fluster—it was about Quentin.

_Oh Quentin, _Hannah thought, _what did you do?_

* * *

><p>Brian and Mike joined Quentin and Don at the sidelines. Don was the first one to notice Hannah walk back to the group and gestured his head in her direction. The rest of the boys turned and watched her approach them. She was staring at the ground with a bitter look on her face and her knuckles were turning white from gripping her helmet too tight.<p>

"How did it go?" Mike asked as Hannah appeared.

She turned to Quentin and gave him a sinister glare. "They asked _a lot _of questions."

Quentin raised his hands to surrender. "I told you, I told them more than I should've."

A bright white smile emerged from Hannah's lips. "Relax, I handled it."

Quentin's jaw dropped. "Then why did you give me that look?"

Hannah shrugged her shoulders, her smile growing wider. "I just wanted to see your reaction. It made my day."

"How exactly did you handle it?" Brian wondered, raising a brow.

"After being stalked by the press these past four years, you kinda just learn how to get them off your back for a while."

"Billingsley! Chavez! Winchell! Get back on the field!" one of the coaches ordered.

The twins nodded at the trio for good luck as they placed their helmets on their heads, nodding in return. Hannah and Quentin cheered for the boys as they ran to the field.

It was Don's time to shine as he ran across the field with the ball cradled in his hands. Hannah and Quentin were cheering for him as he made a run for it. All of a sudden, a defenseman came out of nowhere and seized Don, pulling him to the ground as the ball flew out of his hands. The whistle blew as the players dispersed from the chaos. Don was hunched over the ground, breathing heavily, trying to regain his breath.

Hannah rushed over to Don and placed a hand on his back. "Are you okay?" she asked, rubbing his back. Don was still breathing heavily, but managed to nod. She helped him up and pat him on the back as he ran back to the field.

After a few more plays with Don fumbling the ball, Quentin noticed a man wearing a green shirt and a MOJO baseball cap walking onto the field.

"Oh no," he mumbled. Hannah heard the uneasy tone of her brother and followed his eyes to see Don's father—Charlie Billingsley—walk on the field.

Charlie Billingsley approached Don and started a conversation with him in the middle of the field, gaining everyone's attention. Hannah noticed a woman wearing a tight white skirt and a black shirt walk onto the field, approaching Don and his father.

The twins watched the conversation between Don and Charlie, feeling the tension rise on the field. Don began to walk away when his father grabbed him by the padding and pulled him down to the ground. Hannah, Quentin, and Brian made an immediate run for it, forming a wall between Don and Charlie.

Brian and Quentin were trying to reason with Don's father while Hannah pushed Don away from the drama. Charlie immediately caught up to Don and Hannah and punched his son's helmet.

"Enough!" the woman called, pulling Charlie out of the field.

"Embarrassing me out here," Charlie called out, pointing at his son. Don, Brian, Quentin, and Hannah walked back to their spots. Brian and Quentin pat Don on the back of his helmet while Hannah went back to her place in the sidelines, trying to let go of what just happened.

A few seconds later, Don's voice rang throughout the field. "YOU DON'T SHUT UP DO YOU?"

Just as Quentin was about to join Hannah, a fight sprang out between Don and Boobie. The twins shared a weary glare and booked it to the brawl. Quentin and Mike pulled Boobie back while Hannah and another player pulled Don back. Hannah noticed Boobie laughing hysterically and clapping his hands. As she tried to pull Don back, she gave Boobie a cold glare and shook her head.

Don was struggling to break free from the player's strong grip. Hannah held a tight grasp on Don's wrists, forcing him to calm down and trying to meet with the his eyes. Once she got his attention, she softened her voice. "He's nothing to you, okay? He's just a stuck up dick who thinks he's on top of the world! Just play the game for you alright? Not for your father, not for Boobie, for _you_."

Looking into Hannah's soothing eyes and hearing her compassionate voice always made Don calm down when he was irritated. He didn't know why, but she always knew how to make things better.

Don gave a curt nod and ran back to the huddle, with Hannah patting him on the shoulder as he left.

* * *

><p>Once practice finally ended, the players met up at the end of the field and took a knee, holding each other's hands. Coach Gaines stood in the middle of the huddle, taking a good look of each athlete kneeling before him.<p>

"It's a good day gentlemen," Gaines told the team, then he noticed Hannah kneeling between Don and Quentin. "—and Hannah."

Hannah looked down at the ground in embarrassment while the rest of the team was looking her way, goofy smiles plastered on their faces.

Coach Gaines continued his speech; going on about responsibility, protecting the team, the school, and the town.

"Make no mistake about it gentlemen—and Hannah—we are in the business of protecting this town. We're in the business of winning. The expectations couldn't be any higher. We will win state."

"We will win state." He repeated more quietly. A long silence filled the field. "Can you be perfect?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Chapter Two! How am I doing so far?

Review and criticize!

-Katie


End file.
